Horror for the Holidays
by ilovetvalot
Summary: What happpens when Dave finds a couple of unwelcome intruders in his office a la the West Wing ? Thanksgiving Fic!


**Author's Note - So, I know I sound like a broken record, guys, but We've got less than two weeks left to vote in the Profiler's Choice CM Awards. ALL the details can be found on "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. Links are in my profile page. If you've got ANY questions, PLEASE PM me. Also, for every person that votes in at least TEN categories, you are automatically registered to win one of two Amazon. com gift cards. So, please, put on those reading hats, grab a cup of coffee and check out the ballot. We have some great stories and fabulous authors up for consideration.**

**Also, we have a new forum article up for your consideration at the forum by one of our fellow authors, Kricket Williams called, "The Art of the Tactful Review". Check it out! It's amazingly insightful. Look for new articles coming soon by some of your favorite writers on the CM site. Anyone that has an idea that THEY would like to write for the forum, please contact me.**

**As always, I invited you to join me and tons of other authors and readers over at Facebook. We're having a blast getting to know each other, encouraging each other and swapping ideas! Simply friend "Ilovetvalot Fanfiction."**

**As always, we thank everyone for reading our stories. Reviews keep me motivated to keep going, so, if you have a moment drop a comment. Thanks again for following our work.**

* * *

**Horror for the Holidays**

Shifting his bag to his other shoulder, David Rossi trudged up the short flight of stairs toward his office. After almost a week on the road promoting his latest book, he was looking forward to grabbing a few case files and then heading home. With any luck, he would be in and out in less time than it took to scribble his name on the sign in sheet.

Glancing around the almost empty bullpen, he wondered where his erstwhile team had disappeared to. Don't ask those questions, Rossi, he warned himself as he shook his head. Count your blessings. This way, he was less likely to be waylaid by a well-wisher or, far more likely, someone wanting him to take "just a moment" to look over what would be termed as an "extremely important case."

In and out, Rossi. See if you can break your own record. Little Creek and Mudgie were expecting him…and he was expecting a very deep Scotch at the earliest possible hour.

Turning the knob to his office, he quickly moved inside, dropping his bag on the floor as he flipped on the light. And in that split second, he quickly became aware of the fact that his earlier plans had just gone to hell in a hand basket.

For sitting square in the middle of his hand-carved and highly ornate expensive desk that he had purchased with his very own hard-earned funds was the world's largest turkey.

Someone was going to die for this. He just had to determine who the victim was going to be. "Who the fuck are you?" he growled, his jaw dropping as he watched the bird scratch at the mahogany wood.

Gobble.

"Don't move!"

Gobble, Gobble.

"I said don't move," Dave shouted as the thirty pound beast on his desk flapped his wings irritably, his hand automatically moving toward his gun, pulling it smoothly from the holster and taking aim at the vermin of the poultry world. Sure, there were rules about gunshots in the Federal Building...they tended to create chaos.

But, creating chaos within his inner sanctum was infinitely more dangerous.

This turkey had dared breach his hallowed threshold.

A hunter by nature, he knew one thing with unassailable certainty.

This turkey had to die.

And he was personally going to pluck every one of his feathers and fashion a headdress as a souvenir.

Taking careful aim, Dave's finger rested on the trigger, poised to issue a fatal shot when...to his left...he heard a deeper, more determined...

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble.

Turning his head, Dave's eyes widened. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he bit out. Okay, it was obvious somebody on his team had watched The West Wing one too many frickin' times. And he wasn't nearly as good natured as press secretary CJ Craig.

No, when he found the culprits of this particular practical joke, feathers were gonna fly, damn it!

"Nobody's gonna offer either of you assholes a presidential pardon OR draft you into military service. I support my local Butterball," Dave announced to them both, again lifting his gun and taking aim.

His efforts, however, were waylaid by the sudden ear-piercing shriek that came from his doorway.

"NOOOO!"

He felt his arm pulled down, fingernails biting dangerously hard into his flesh. "How could you even think of shooting Albert?" she squealed indignantly, her talons digging into his skin with enough force to draw blood.

Rolling his eyes as he drew in a deep breath, nostrils flaring, Dave slowly turned to face the interloper that had dared to interrupt his target practice. Meeting the flashing eyes of the woman beside him, he demanded sharply, "Are you the one responsible for this, Garcia? 'Cause I gotta tell you, someone's gonna die for it, and I ain't real picky about who that might be right now."

Taking a quick step sideways to place herself between Dave and the turkey on the desk, Garcia waved her arms over her head as she smiled as wide as she possibly could. "Now, Agent Trigger Happy, I know this is a bit unexpected, but I'm sure once you hear the entire story, you'll understand completely and all will be just absolutely fantastic!"

"Unless this story ends with me plugging two in the turkey's forehead, I doubt it," Dave retorted sarcastically, lowering his gun back to his side. "Exactly who in the hell told you that my office would make an adequate turkey coop, Garcia? Because it sure as hell wasn't me!" he said, jabbing a finger to his heart as he stood facing her. "In which universe did you think I'd be receptive to a roomie?"

"She didn't," a cool voice that still had the power to send pain...literal pain...surging through his brain. "I did."

Turning, Dave's eyes narrowed on the woman responsible for more than one man's balls shriveling and dying a nasty death. "Strauss," he spat.

"Hello, David," Strauss acknowledged as she smiled pleasantly. "Is there a problem?" she asked blandly.

"A problem?" Dave exploded, his voice booming with the force of thunder. "Yeah," he snarled. "I'd say so! You authorized this?" he asked, his own arms flapping now as he gestured wildly toward the turkeys meandering across his desk.

"Technical Analyst Garcia needed a location to temporarily corral Albert and Johann," Strauss explained, shrugging nonchalantly. "Since you were on annual leave, I assumed this would be the most convenient accommodation. I really don't see the problem, Agent Rossi. After all, they're turkeys. You're fluent in their language."

"It's only for a day, Superagent!" Penelope interjected, jerking at his sleeve. "Less than that now," she added desperately. "Their curtain call is seven o'clock."

"Trust me, if anybody punches those birds' ticket, it's gonna be me," Dave growled at Garcia before turning back to Strauss. "And the problem is that's a ten thousand dollar desk that son of a ..."

"That's Albert," Penelope informed him weakly.

"...that...ALBERT, is scratching to hell and gone," Dave yelled furiously. "And his partner in crime," Dave yelped, arms waving wildly as he caught sight of the other terror near the window.

"Johann," Garcia provided helpfully.

"He's eating thousand dollar drapes!" Dave hissed, his fingers itching to pull his gun again.

"He's sorry," Penelope apologized as she tugged the curtain from Johann's mouth. "Really, Agent Rossi."

Running a hand through his dark hair, he demanded, "Somebody explain why they're here in the first place!"

"Well, Boss Man Junior has a Thanksgiving play tonight," Pen explained frantically, pulling futilely at the skin around the nearest turkey's neck to pull him away from another possible edible accessory. "And Albert is the star of the show!"

"And Johann?" Dave bit out.

"The understudy," Strauss's amused voice provided.

"Are you shittin' me?" Dave snapped, staring at Erin with something akin to horror.

Strauss smiled and nodded at Dave's desk. "No, but the bird is."

"Oh, son of a..." Dave moaned, his jaw dropping as the bird dropped presents all over his polished desk.

"Please, Agent Rossi," Penelope begged, pressing a hand to her ample bosom. "Just another hour and we're out of here," she promised as her phone beeped. "Oh! That's Hotch! I've gotta go help Jack with his Pilgrim costume! Thanks bunches, SuperAgent!" She smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Dave's unsuspecting cheek.

"And I've got to...well, hell, I've got to go call everyone I ever met," Erin cackled, turning toward the door.

"Hey!" Dave yelled. "What am I supposed to do with Amos and Andy in here?" he questioned angrily above the gobbles.

Turning at the door, Erin smiled. "I suggest you learn to coexist, David. Much the way I've done with you."

And as the door closed on Dave's dismayed face, Erin laughed.

Maybe for Christmas, Garcia could find her a goose.

Or an entire gaggle. After all, David deserved the very best, didn't he?

**Finis**

* * *

**A/N - Let us know what you thought! Happy Thanksgiving!**


End file.
